Taking the Fall
by Kennedy MacKay
Summary: A man tries to take revenge on Kovac, but when Neela steps in, things threaten to go too far...
1. One

Disclaimer:  They're not mine, and I'm not profiting.

Taking the Fall

A clamoring sound resonated throughout the ER, followed by shuffling as a group of paramedics wheeled a gurney into the nearest available room.  "What've we got?" Dr. Kovac asked breathlessly as he threw the doors open and entered with Neela and several nurses in tow.  

"Severe head trauma," a paramedic said, then he proceeded to give the specifics.  Kovac and Neela managed to stabilize the woman within several minutes, but she wasn't breathing without the help of a respirator, and it was likely that she wouldn't wake up.  Neela's eyes fell on the woman laying on the table.  She was dark, possibly Indian, and the young medical student couldn't help but notice the resemblance between herself and the patient.  "She was hit over the head," Kovac said, splicing into her thoughts.  "And I think I know who did it."  His gaze traveled to the man pacing outside in the hallway who had been watching their progress.   As the nurses came to take the woman to intensive care, he entered and demanded, "Is she going to be alright?"

"Are you her husband?" Luca asked.

"Brother," he answered desperately.

"We've managed to stabilize your sister, but we had to put her on a respirator.  She's unable to breath without it.  Does she have a living will?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice rising in volume and pitch.

"Mr.-" Kovac hadn't caught the man's name.

"Anderson."

"Mr. Anderson, you're going to have to make a very difficult decision.  We can take your sister off the respirator-"

"No!  I have to see her!" Mr. Anderson yelled, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

"I'll have a nurse take you to her," said Neela, stepping in for the first time.  As they walked away, Kovac stripped off his lab coat.  "I'm on break," he said to Weaver, not waiting for a response, or even looking at her.  He was so drained, he knew he'd be asleep the moment he sat down, so he paced in the break room instead, taking a sip of coffee every minute or so.

---10 Minutes Later---

Neela took a chart from the counter and scanned over it.  Burning sensation… always a classic.

"Who killed my wife?!" a voice demanded loudly.  Everyone turned toward the spectacle.  A man with wild eyes waved a gun madly at anything that moved.  Weaver moved to call security, but he aimed at her.  "Don't do it.  Which one of you worked on my wife?"

"Just calm down," Dr. Weaver said in a low voice.  "Calm down and we'll get you some help."

"She came in here a half hour ago, and now she's on a fucking respirator!"  Something clicked in Neela's mind.  She knew exactly who he was talking about.  "I'm going to kill this bitch unless somebody tells me who did this to her!"  The man still had his gun trained on Weaver.  Neela thought quickly.  She certainly couldn't serve up Kovac on a platter.  But he was about to kill someone, and she couldn't let that happen.  She remembered how much the woman had looked like her, and she made a decision.

"I did," she said meekly.  "I worked on her."  She was hoping that he wouldn't be able to hurt her if she reminded him of his wife.  

"Come here," he said, his voice more controlled.  She hesitantly walked over to him.  It seemed to take forever to take the few steps, but finally she stood before him, searching his eyes in an attempt to predict his behavior.  They were no longer wild.  In fact, he seemed to know exactly what he was about to do.  But as he swung the gun back and brought it down hard across the side of her head, the rage returned.  She fell to the floor like a rag doll, her hair falling limply in front of her face.  "Get up," came the command.  She struggled to raise her head, her vision blurry and her breathing ragged.  Finally she was able to drag herself from the ground, only to be hit on the other side of her head.  The blood pounded in her head, and her vision went black for a moment.  When she was finally aware of what was happening, she was being pulled by the shirt into a standing position and then forced to walk into a dark place.  When she looked around, she realized she was in a janitor's closet.  "Don't move, don't talk, and don't do anything stupid," the man demanded, taking a knife from his pocket.

To be continued…   


	2. Two

The next chapter is a little rough, but I promise it will get better.

Neela lay on the ground where she'd been cast, her head again a cement-block wall.  She stared at the knife, her breathing heavy with anxiety.  What was he planning on doing with that knife?  She took a deep breath, but it hitched in her throat.  She tried again.  "What's your name?"

"I told you not to talk," he answered absently, his eyes narrowed with intense concentration.  He brought the knife to her shirt, cutting it straight down the middle.

"Wha- what are you doing?" she asked urgently.  She knew what he was doing but she couldn't let it happen.  "Please stop," she asked in a child-like voice, tears springing to her eyes.  The knife tore into the flesh of her stomach, wrenching a cry from her lungs.  "I told you!" he yelled.  

Outside security was pacing around, not quite equipped to deal with such a situation.  The police had been called but had yet to arrive.  People had been ushered quickly out of the ER and the upper floors had been locked down.  "Can't we do something?!" Abby yelled, hearing the scream come from the janitor's closet.  "Ma'am, we're doing everything we can," came the response.  Luca had come out of the break room during the commotion and Abby had apprised him of the situation.  He wanted to pound on the closet door, but he knew it would do no good, and could even aggravate the man inside.

His hands pushed at the cloth, separating it.  He was touching her.  She couldn't let him touch her.  Her eyes darted from object to object, not resting on anything for more than a millisecond.  Her thoughts became less and less rational as adrenaline was released at high levels.  "Stop!" she yelled, panic evident in her voice.  The man prepared to slash her stomach again, but as he raised up and readied himself to bring it down and across, she drew her legs up to her chest and then thrust them forward, kicking him squarely in the groin.  He clutched himself and fell to the side, momentarily incapacitated.  

Neela scrambled to her feet, shoving the janitor's cart that he'd thrown upside-down in front of the door.  She threw open the door, clutching at her shirt with her other hand to hold the pieces together.  Despite the guns that were immediately trained at her, she threw herself into the arms of the nearest officer.  

The man in the closet rose to his feet, despite demands to stay put and relinquish his weapon.  In a fury, he snapped it up and aimed at Neela, who was still in the arms of the security guard.  As Luca ran to stand in front of the gun, several of the officers opened fire.  The assailant fell to the floor immediately, gun falling from his hand with a heavy clatter.  Luca reached Neela and grabbed her from the guard, trying to assess her injuries.  It was then that he noticed the blood covering the front of the guard's uniform.  Thinking the man had been shot, he searched for an entrance wound, but found none.  He took Neela by the shoulders and gently held her at arms length, eliciting from her a small sob of protest which was quickly stifled.  He needed to know where all that blood had come from.

He lifted her shirt, exposing her stomach, which was covered in a sticky mass of red.  She just stood shaking like a leaf in the wind, both hands now holding her shirt closed, eyes fixed on the ground.  

Luca took one look at her face and realized she was in shock.  Picking her up, he brought her to the nearest exam room (which was actually an area closed off with a blue curtain), and placed her on the bed.  Every ER doctor who had been waiting during those first tumultuous moments soon followed, each grabbing instruments and gauze and other things as Luca examined the wound.  Neela closed her eyes, exhaustion sending her into a drowsy sleep.  Pratt stepped through the clutter of people, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her gently.  "Hey," he said softly.  "You gotta stay awake, okay?"  He began examining her head, fingers sifting through her hair, searching for lumps and bruises and finding several.  "We gotta keep her awake," he said to Luca, who seemed to have taken charge.  Kovac had decided that the stomach wound was superficial and was sewing it together, albeit quite nervously.  Abby calmly wiped the blood away from her stomach.  "Pratt, take off your coat," she said, indicating the lab coat he was wearing.  Noting the incredulous look he gave her, she demanded, "Just do it."  He took it off and tossed it to her.  She promptly draped it over Neela's chest and shoulders, keeping her warm and covered.  Aside from a concussion and a few stitches, she would be physically okay.

To be continued… 


	3. Three

Onward to the warm fuzzies.  By the way, if anyone is reading this at all, please leave feedback!

Neela awoke in stiff sheets and metal bars.  It took her a moment to realize where she was, but with that realization the memories of everything that had happened only an hour ago shot through her mind in rapid fire.  She groaned and tried to sit up, but strong hands prevented her.  "Stay still," a gentle voice commanded, and she obeyed because it was more comfortable to lay there in a daze and not think about what had happened.  Eventually, though, curiosity got the better of her, and she turned her head to see the man attached to the hand that lay calmly on her arm.

"Dr. Kovac?" she asked groggily.  Her vision was a bit blurry from sleep, but was clearing up.

"How are you feeling?" came the response.

"Tired… I don't know."  She could remember everything that had happened, but she felt detached from it.  She saw everything happening in her mind, but it was like something that had happened long ago.

Luca took hold of her hand.  "They told me everything.  What you did-… Why did you do that?"  His voice was strained and his eyes were weary with stress.

"I looked so much like her.  I thought he wouldn't hurt me that badly."  Her eyes, which had been darting back and forth, focused on her lap.  "I was afraid he would kill you."

"He killed his wife," Luca answered, the intensity in his voice rising.  "He would've killed you if you hadn't-"  Here he stopped, unable to continue.  He let go of her hand and rested his forehead on both of his.  I she had been killed because of him, he would never have been able to forgive himself.  He had never really paid any attention to her, but at the moment, he was convinced she was either Mother Teresa or completely insane.

"I didn't think he would hurt me," she repeated, and she seemed to genuinely believe it.  A few tears escaped her eyes as the fear she had felt crept up on her and the shock began to wear off.  Seeing her tears, he took her hand again in both of his.

"I'm sorry."  His concern for her was growing now.  "Has the hospital sent anyone up for you to talk to?  A psych consul?"

"Not yet, but I have a feeling they will," she replied with annoyance.  She just wanted to go home and sleep forever, but she had let Abby persuade her to let herself be admitted.  Tomorrow she would have to give her statement to the police, and she really didn't feel like reliving once, let alone twice.

"You should talk to someone," he replied.

"I'm talking to you."

Luca didn't know how to respond to that.  He wasn't sure he wanted that responsibility.  He wasn't fit to help her in any way, and he told her as much.  "Neela, I'm not the person to talk to."

"Well I don't want to talk to anyone," she answered angrily, "But everyone seems to think that I should."  She began to shake, and he clasped her hand more firmly.

"You're cold," he said, taking off his sweater and draping it over her.  He felt fiercely protective of her, obligated to her even.  She was so young and timid, and had done something so brave and strong.

"Thank you," she said softly.  Her next move surprised him.  She rose up and placed her arms around his neck.  After a beat, he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist, the sweater trapped between them.  Then, as quickly as she had come forward, she drew back, laying against the pillows.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just… scared, I think."

He didn't respond; instead he took her hand again and waited until she fell asleep.      


	4. Four

I'm gonna try to make this chapter a bit more readable by (drum roll………) hitting enter twice!  Hopefully my formatting won't be shot to hell again.  Anyway, onward to the fluff.

Luka managed to drag himself into work, despite the splitting headache and aching muscles that were characteristic of having absolutely no sleep the night before.  It had been two days since a man had shown up in the ER, crazed and waving a gun, and he hadn't been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time since then.  He kept thinking that if he'd only done something differently, perhaps the outcome would have been different.  If he'd taken his break later, or said something differently…

He hung his coat in his locker and last no time in getting to work, taking cases that would occupy his mind.  The first half of his shift went without incident, if one could call bloody vomit, a dog attack, and a whole host of other ailments 'without incident.'  But the real work began when Neela Rosgotra walked through the door.

-------------------------------

"You should be in bed," Abby stated disapprovingly.  "I thought Weaver told you not to come into work today."

"I was going insane sitting at home.  I had to get out," Neela replied in her proper British dialect.  

"Then you and this place deserve each other," the older woman joked.  "I'll take whatever free time I can get."  

After a moment she stopped walking and turned to look Neela in the eye.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, really."  She really didn't want to dwell on the subject, and her eyes conveyed just that.  She set her features in a stony expression as she answered, but at least managed a small smile afterwards.

"Okay," Abby answered, sensing that she wasn't going to get a straight answer.

Neela set about suturing and setting bones, two of the tedious tasks that were pushed off onto medical students.  At one point, while stitching up an open gash set deeply in a hairy arm, she felt a hand near her face.  Dr. Kovac stood above her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.  "How are you?"  She looked up at him with eyes made large and round with surprise.  His, on the other hand, were a mixture of fatigue and anxiety- a lethal combination.  "I'm fine," she replied unconvincingly.

"Hey, you gonna sew this thing up, or do I have to do it myself?" the man attached to the arm asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Kovac continued, ignoring the man.  He walked away, and she continued to sew.

"What was that?" Pratt asked sideling up to Luka.  

"What was what?" he replied.

"I saw that thing you did," Pratt answered seriously.  

"So what?"

"So maybe you should stay away from her."

Luka halted, turning to face the other doctor.  "Why?" he spat angrily.

The answering questions with questions tactic was really unnerving to Pratt, so he stopped dancing around the issue.   "Because the last med student you pulled this shit on wound up-"

"Pulled what on?  I'm not pulling anything."  And he honestly wasn't, at least not consciously.  He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since two days ago in that hospital room.  But it was a sort of curious fascination, along with a sense of protectiveness and obligation.  But as he walked away from a brooding Dr. Pratt, he found himself thinking about how soft her skin had been, and how young she'd looked as she'd stared up at him.  

He spent the remainder of the day trying to avoid her, but the ER was relatively small and cluttered, and every time she passed, it was an effort not to look at her.  He was happy to leave at the end of the day and put work behind him, and there was a bottle of scotch waiting to help him do so.  He thought about getting absolutely wasted as he stood in snow, waiting for the bus.  It wasn't as if he had anything better to do with his time.  

"Dr. Kovac?"

He turned around, facing the small voice that had addressed him.  "I thought you didn't get off til later," he replied, staring in disbelief at the small woman before him.

"Dr. Weaver sent me home."  He continued to stare, and she took it to mean that he wasn't quite satisfied with her explanation.  "My hand started shaking and I very nearly took an eye out."  She smiled meekly, wishing for him to say something.  

"I knew you were lying," he said softly.  "You're not okay."

She rolled her eyes.  "I didn't want to talk about it.  I still don't, if it's alright with you."  The bus pulled up and they stepped inside.

"Why did you do it?" he asked suddenly, once they were situated.  "I can't stop asking myself that."

She sighed heavily, eyes looking down, from person to person, anywhere but at him.  "I told you.  He would have killed you, you know.  How could I live with myself if I didn't do something about that?"

Luka still wasn't satisfied, but her answer warmed him.  He reached over and covered her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before withdrawing.  She caught her breath, turning to look at him in surprise.

"That's my stop," was all she could manage.  "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Neela," he answered, watching her receding form.  Maybe the scotch could wait for a rainy day.


End file.
